


In the Eye

by aggiepuff



Series: Soulmate Singles [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, I have no self control, Soulmate Bells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggiepuff/pseuds/aggiepuff
Summary: “We are not asking the dragon for directions.”Rhaenys the Golden Terror lifted her head. Voices drifted up the trail and sunlight glinted off armor roughly one hundred feet away. Her eyes narrowed.Adventurers.
Relationships: Robb Stark/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia)
Series: Soulmate Singles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882498
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39





	In the Eye

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have no self control. I'll probably go back and edit/add more later but for now I just wanted to get this posted. Enjoy!

“We are _not_ asking the dragon for directions.”

Rhaenys the Golden Terror lifted her head. Voices drifted up the trail and sunlight glinted off armor roughly one hundred feet away. Her eyes narrowed. _Adventurers._

There were six of them, four men and two young women. All - except for the pretty redhead - were dressed in armour. The pretty redhead, who seemed to be arguing with the redhaired boy, while dressed in breeches had neither the sword or bow of her companions but carried a witch’s staff. 

_Magic adventurers. Wonderful._

Rhaenys waited, watching as they drew closer. Her cave guarded Goldtooth Pass and she was paid handsomely in sheep and treasure by the small, wealthy kingdom of Dorne to keep an eye out for possible invaders. It helped that her grandmother, Jesmyn the Silent Dread, married into the Dornish royal family. Only Princess Jesmyn’s daughter, Rhaenys’ mother, Princess Elia Martell, was ever able to take dragon form and, like her mother before her, of her siblings only Rhaenys could shapeshift.

_Perhaps it is something about the female line_ , Rhaenys mused. Her great forepaws crossed delicately at the wrists, her long, graceful neck arching. The sun glittered on her golden scales, the scarlet ridges along her neck frills and spine spikes creating the illusion of a setting sun. 

The small party of adventurers caught the motion and immediately froze. The huge man with a half-scarred face gripped his greatsword, hefting it slightly higher. 

Rhaenys stretched her neck forward to peer down at them. The smallest of them, a tiny brunette with a fierce expression and almost lupine features, lept forward, wickedly sharp yet unbelievably tiny sword pointed at Rhaenys’ eye. “Back!”

If she had an eyebrow, Rhaenys would have raised it, thoroughly bemused. Instead, she lifted her head slightly. “That was quite rude,” she commented, letting her warm breath hinting at the fire in her heart pour over the tiny girl. 

The girl firmed her grip on her sword. Really, it couldn’t be longer than Rhaenys’ smallest claw.

Rhaenys rolled her eyes and shook out her crest. “What are you doing in my mountains?” she asked. 

The pretty redhead lifted her head and stepped forward. “We need help.”

“And what help do you think I can offer, witchling?”

The girl’s knuckles whitened on her witch’s staff. It was a pretty thing, very much like the girl, made of some silvery wood, an uncut sapphire as large as a human fist nestled at the top. She swallowed hard. “We need directions to Casterly Rock.”

Rhaenys tilted her head. “That is a fair distance from here and in the opposite direction. Why do you seek the Lannister home?”

“They hold our father captive.” 

Rhaenys hummed. It would be no trouble, of course, to point this little group in the right direction. Casterly Rock was a two week journey by foot, several hours by dragonwing. Still, the only one of them who seemed a capable fighter was the scarred man. The other three men were just out of boyhood, perhaps only twenty or so. True, that was Rhaenys’ age, but she was a dragon. Besides, the small, fierce girl could be no more than sixteen, the redheaded witch barely eighteen. What hope did they have against the might of the Lionguard?

“Are you sure it’s wise,” she asked, “to besiege the Rock with only six of you?”

“Wise, probably not,” the witch answered, “but we love our father and so we must.”

“Enough of this,” the sandy haired boy snapped. “What are we asking the giant lizard for? It’d be better to kill the thing and take what we need from its hoard.”

Rhaenys huffed. “That’s very rude,” she informed the boy, snaking her head around the witch, coming just a swordlength shy of the boy. Her mouth opened taking in his scent of sand and ocean brine, showing fangs almost as long as he was tall.

Color drained from the boy’s face and he stumbled back, fumbling for his sword. She gave him a dragon's grin with far too many teeth. "If you are so interested in fighting I wonder what you will taste like."

“Don’t mind him,” the boy with the dark curly hair and dower eyes stepped in front of her. “Please, Theon doesn’t mean it.”

Rhaenys breathed in deep. The boy smelled of wild pines and….woodsmoke? Rhaenys’ lips twitched in a silent snarl, pulling back to her full height. “You smell of my father.”

Rhaegar Targaryen was a fool of a man. Human though his House claimed dragon blood. After seducing her mother he had the nerve to chase a pretty northern girl and get her with child. Imbecile hadn’t remembered dragon nature when he fucked the poor girl. Dragons mate for life. To be unfaithful is to ask for death. 

“Your father?” the boy blinked up at her, startled.

“What is your mother’s name?” Rhaenys asked, voice like ice.

“What does it matter?” the tiny girl demanded. 

Rhaenys barely spared the girl a glance. “It matters,” she answered, “because it will tell me if I eat your friend, here, or help you.”

The boy swallowed hard. “My name is Jon Snow-”

“Your name is Jon Stark,” the last boy interrupted, shooting a glare at Jon with the air of an old argument not yet settled.

Rhaenys tilted her head, considering. Finally, she stood.

On her four paws, Rhaenys towered above the humans. They scrambled back. Without a word, she turned, careful to keep her tail from sweeping them from the mountainside. When she didn’t hear them following, she glanced over her shoulder.

The humans huddled at the entrance to her cave. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t just stand there like a bunch of ninnies. Come in.”

Their feet tapped on the floor of her cave. Rhaenys slipped behind a natural stone archway just inside the cave mouth and shifted. 

Changing shape was very much like stepping through a door. It required that act of stepping then one moment she was a hundred foot tall dragon, and the next she wore human skin, pulling her long black hair over her shoulders and wondering if all her clothes were in her bedchamber or if she’d remembered to leave at least a long tunic nearby.

With sigh at not finding any clothes, Rhaenys arranged her hair so it lay across her chest and all the way down her front, almost reaching her knees. Personally, Rhaenys didn’t see much point in modesty - but, then, she was Dornish _and_ a dragon. 

She stopped back into the main cavern of the cave and towards the adventurers. Theon saw her first. He leered at her, pale blue eyes raking over her body. “Hello. Who are you?”

“I may be human now, but I will still eat you.”

Theon jumped back. “You - you’re the dragon?”

Rhaenys flashed him a grin, teeth white against her dark skin, canines too sharp. 

“Fuck me sideways.”

Rhaenys turned. The scarred man stared at her, but without the perversion of Theon. “How the fuck do you go from that” - he pointed toward the cavemouth - “to that?” He pointed at her. 

“I am a dragon,” Rhaenys replied and that was all she would say. There was magic in the world and she need not explain herself to humans.

The redheaded witch nodded. “I heard dragons were shapeshifters,” she said, “but I never thought I’d see it myself.”

Rhaenys’ smile gentled, enjoying the girl’s impressed tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” She gestured at the staff. “How long have you been practicing?”

The redhead blushed scarlet. “Only a few years and I’m not very good.”

“You’ve made it this far so you must have some skill.

“If you don’t mind,” the tiny girl interrupted, “but maybe you should put some clothes on?”

Rhaenys raised an eyebrow - now that she could - at her. She was just as tiny when Rhaenys stood on two feet as when she towered over her on four. Still, she was right. “As you command, lady warrior.” She looked around at the small group, intending to instruct that they make themselves comfortable - her eyes caught on the young man whose name she did not yet know, the one who named Jon as a son of House Stark. Blue met purple.

A cacophony of bells filled her head, beautiful and wild and bright and playful and overwhelming. 

She stumbled back, clutching at her ears, unable to take her eyes from him. 

The boy’s hands slapped over his own ears and he gasped in pain.

Finally, _finally_ the bells stopped, leaving her gasping, unable to catch her breath. 

“Robb?” Jon started for the boy, worry in his eyes. “Robb, are you alright?”

The boy - Robb, nodded, staring at her. Slowly, his hands slid from his ears. “I think…Soulmate?”

Rhaenys nodded, unable to speak. Soulmates were not rare, but Soulmate bells that _loud?_

Her mother described the bells like gentle wind chimes. What Rhaenys heard were most decidedly _not_ windchimes. It was like standing inside the bell tower of a sept. A memory of her human grandmother swam to the surface. _The louder the bells, the stronger the match_.

_Well,_ Rhaenys huffed, _then our match must be strong as Valyrian steel_.

She beckoned Robb to follow her as she turned on her heel. “Come along, Soulmate.”

At the back of her cave was another, smaller entrance that led to the smaller chamber where she occasionally slept as a human and kept her human accoutrement. The torches fixed to the stone walls flared to life at her snap, illuminating plush rugs splayed across the stone floor, a soft circular bed set against the back wall. Several ornately decorated trunks and a large armoire were scattered along the other walls with a matching heavy work table and chair alongside four tall bookcases overflowing with a variety of books. Every other available space along the walls was taken up by tapestries, charcoal sketches, or brightly colored paintings, all done by her brother or cousins.

Her room was very comfortable and she liked it. She was, however, alone. 

Rhaenys turned back. Robb hadn’t followed her. 

She poked her head back through the cave entrance. “Soulmate?”

The group of adventures huddled at the center of her cave whispering urgently amongst themselves. At her voice, they turned warily to her. All - save the scarred man whose face she could not read - wore nearly identical expressions of apprehension and distrust.

“How do you know you won’t eat him?” the short girl demanded. 

“Arya!” The redhead scolded sharply.

“Stuff it, Sansa,” Arya snapped back. “She was threatening to eat Theon.”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t really going to eat him. Besides,” she pointed to Jon, “his name is Stark and he smells of my father’s bloodline. His mother is Lyanna Stark, yes?”

Jon’s eyes widened. “Yes, how did you know?”

“My name is Rhaenys. My mother is Elia Martell. You are, apparently, my half-brother and our mothers are friends, after they discovered our father’s unfaithfulness. I’m not going to eat any of you.”

“You know my - our father?”

Rhaenys cocked her head. “Of course.”

Jon’s brow furrowed, his face becoming even more solemn, were that possible. “What happened to him? My mother won’t tell me.”

“Oh.” Rhaenys blinked in surprise. “My mother ate him.”

“Are you - you can’t be serious,” Theon sputtered.

“Of course I am. My mother ate him when she discovered his infidelity. It is the way of dragons; they kill the unfaithful mate. But I understand he didn’t taste very good.” She smiled, cheeks dimpling. “We dragons are rather unforgiving of betrayal. I assume I shan’t have that problem with you?”

The last was directed at her new Soulmate and Robb flushed upon finding himself under the scrutiny of bright purple eyes. “I - uh, I don’t think so?”

“Well, we’ll figure it out. Now, come on. I’d like some help with my dress and then we can plan how to storm the Rock.”

Robb licked his lips but obediently followed her into her chamber. 

Rhaenys chose a pair of breeches, linen shirt and short overtunic with split sides for easy movement from one trunk, forgoing a dress from the armoire. Her belt was wide, half acting as a corset, and she pulled out her knee high leather boots. In truth she didn’t need help dressing but, well, she wanted to get him alone for a moment. 

Pulling on her breeches, she fumbled in another trunk and pulled out a carved comb. “Here,” she said, “I assume you know how to brush a person’s hair.”

Robb took the comb. “Of course I know how to brush hair.”

“Excellent.” Rhaenys turned her back to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder and putting on her breasband. Next came the shirt and then the tunic. Once clothed, she turned back to Robb. 

He still stood in the center of her bedchamber, looking around. She watched him, curious to see his reaction to her home.

He was a very handsome young man, almost beautiful, with dark, curly red hair and a scruff of beard over a strong jaw and what she was sure was a very stubborn chin. His skin was moon pale and smooth, almost soft. His intelligent blue eyes drifted to her bookshelves, then her trunks, and finally landing on her bed. His attention seemed fixed on it for several minutes and Rhaenys smiled. “You seem pensive, Soulmate.”

Robb swallowed hard, dragging his eyes back to her. “I, uh…”

“You didn’t expect your Soulmate to be a dragon?” she guessed.

Robb nodded. “I didn’t expect to ever meet my Soulmate, to be honest. I don't have any magic, not like Sansa and Sandor."

"The scarred man?" Rhaenys guessed, remembering how the man always ensured he was nearest Sansa at any given moment.

Robb nodded. "Aye. I reckon their Soulmate bells were almost as loud as ours."

Rhaenys licked her lips and took a step toward him. A warm certainty burned in her heart, small as coals but steady. _Mine._

“Do you mind?” she asked. "That I'm a dragon, I mean?"

Robb looked her over, taking in her long black hair, full mouth, strong nose, dark gold-brown skin and bright purple eyes. Rhaenys knew she was pretty enough, as far as humans went. She was proportional, at least. But the way Robb looked at her, it sent tingles dancing across her skin. 

"No," he said, voice dipping low, "I don't mind." His mouth twitched. "As long as you promise not to eat me."

Rhaenys' eyes flashed wickedly and she stepped even closer, her chest just barely brushing the front of his shirt. "Are you saying there isn't anything of yours you want in my mouth?"

Robb's bright blue eyes darkened, desire flickering to life in his face, but his voice was steady. "Not yet," he answered. "I'd much rather know you first."

Rhaenys beamed. "Alright." She turned, exposing her back and flipping her hair at him. "You can start to know me by combing out my hair."

Air huffed against the back of her neck but his hands were smooth as they dragged the comb gently through the long strands. "Do you live here alone?" He asked.

Rhaenys suppressed a shiver at his voice so near and the warmth radiating from his skin. "Yes. I came here almost five years ago. Dorne pays me to guard the pass."

"Do you get visitors often?"

"About every couple of weeks, mostly merchants who stay the night then move on the next morning. Where are you from?"

"The North. My father-" his hands faltered on her hair.

Rhaenys waited a moment but when he couldn not seem to make himself continue, she asked, "Will you tell me about your quest?"

Robb's hands began again, working through her hair. "The Lannisters imprisoned my father when he went on a diplomatic mission to the Westerlands two months ago. They will not tell us why and they will not release him.

"So you intend to retrieve him yourself?"

"Aye."

Rhaenys frowned. "This is the mountain pass from the Reach to Dorne. You are a very long way from the Westerlands."

"I had not realized we came so far south," he murmured, "but I could not make myself change course. I was a loadstone and nothing could dissuade me."

"I suspect it was the gods. Sometimes they are like that." She did not tell him of the spell she cast three moons back wherein she asked the gods for True Love. It probably had nothing to do with his need to come here, anyway, and it was a rubbish spell, after all.

Robb grunted and set aside the comb. "Do you want me to braid your hair?"

Rhaenys half turned. "You know how to braid hair?"

His cheeks flushed pink but he nodded. "Aye. My sister Sansa, she's just outside, she would have me braid her hair when she was little. I can't do anything fancy, but I can make a decently secure braid that won't come undone."

"I would like that. Thank you very much."

Again Robb's hands returned to her hair but this time his fingers trailed across her scalp. Another delightful shiver danced down her spine. She tilted her head back, enjoying the feel of him and wondered if he had calluses. She wondered if his calluses would drag across her skin as he ran his hands over her body.

Before she was ready, Robb asked for a leather thing to tie off the braid but when he was done and the finished braid draped over her chest he did not move. Slowly, carefully he placed his hands on her shoulders.

Rhaenys was never particularly tactile. She hugged her mother and brother. She occasionally leaned against her many cousins. She rarely permitted more than a handshake with strangers. But Robb's touch was entirely different. Even after so short a time she found herself wanting to lean back against him, to let his arms come around her and hold her close. It would have been unsettling, if the idea wasn't so tantalizing.

"Excuse me?"

Rhaenys turned at the new voice. Sansa Stark stood at the entrance to her bedchamber. The younger redhead couldn't see her brother's face but Rhaenys could. A secret thrill of pleasure twisted in her chest at Robb's scowl, obviously brought on by Sansa's interruption.

"Yes, Lady Sansa?"

"The sun is beginning to set," Sansa said. "If we are to get back down the mountain tonight we need to leave now."

Rhaenys shook her head, stepping around Robb. "You cannot leave yet. We haven't decided a plan to crack Casterly Rock."

Behind Sansa, Sandor growled, "We?"

Rhaenys nodded. "Yes, we. If Robb is my Soulmate then his people are mine as well. Now, I'll get something roasting and we can plan while we eat."


End file.
